The Song Of Revenge
by esuterutomoru
Summary: After the battles, in Dressrosa, a song echoes through the crowd. DoflamingoxOC, character death, abundance of foul language.


_**The Song of Revenge**_

'_Now I really don't have shit to live for.'_

The elevated screaming from outside licked at her ears with madness, scrawling damnation on her heart, squeezing the air from her lungs, tearing into her, too much truth. She stumbled, her platform boots unsteady under her shaky knees and weak ankles. Something hurt when she fell to her fours, maybe, god knows, she couldn't care. She dragged herself across the stupidly soft carpet, crawling on hands and knees towards wherever. She didn't have a conscious thought much other than '_I really don't have shit to live for, I really don't.'_

A length of rope peeked out from under the bed, she saw it through her mascara-blackened tears. She grabbed it, it slipped from her shaky fingers. She grabbed again, held on, yanked it towards her chest, hugged it there. She sobbed, moaning under her breath, rolling onto her back. She was shivering all over, her guts all cramped into the bottom of her torso, a void yawning beneath her breastbone. She sobbed, the tears streaming down, her nose shiny, her mouth stuck in the pathetic expression of the weeping.

'_I don't have shit to live for...'_

Before she knew, her fingers began working, rolling the rope, coiling it, wrapping. It fell from her hands and she whimpered, turning to her side, clawing at it again. She knotted, wrapped. Her fingers shook, her breath wheezed through her lipstick-stained teeth. Her face was a joke, smeared with black mourning, red pain and white fear.

'_I don't have a fucking shit to live for you fucking bastard how dare you fucking lose and die to a fucking kid goddamnit Doffy you shit you fucking trash you goddamn bastard you… you… ass…! What do I do what do I do...'_

But she was already done. Gasping, she rolled to her fours again, moaned and wept into the carpet. She rubbed her face into her lower arms and the plush, her back trembling, rippling, her ass sticking up, her thighs apart, quite the slut as always.

'_What do I fucking do you shit you trash where do I go what do I do how dare you I don't have crap to live for you know that you always knew that you bastard!'_

"You ain't…" She mumbled, scooting her leg forward, finding leverage on her foot, slowly pushing, swaying, trying to get up. "You ain't… gettin' rid of me… you trash…" With a sob and a moan, she was up on her feet, barely seeing a thing through the tears and the headache. "You trash… you fucking piece of trash..."

She looked at the rope in her hands and swallowed. Her pink mouth trembled, twisting down, her face scrunching up in terrible pain. Her voice was a high, squeaky beg. "...I'm gonna go right after you… gonna go right after you shithead…"

With tremendous effort, she stumbled over to the desk in the room, grabbing the large chair and yanking it. She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut, her shoulders burning, her legs shaking as her feet tried to find solid footing. The chair barely budged, sliding only a few inches across the carpet.

"You shit… fucking shit chair…" She muttered, gasping, bending over, sucking in another sob of air. Again, she yanked, stumbling backwards, the chair lumbering forward like a large animal unwilling to move. "God… God DAMN it…!" She wailed, kicking the leg of the chair, hissing right after, pressing her sticky lips together with the ache shooting up from her toes. "Fucking piece of fucking wood…" She swallowed, breathing hard, the tears still coming. She wiped at her face with the back of her hand, staring at the chair in front of her. "...why are you so fucking huge you bastard… how did you fucking lose to a kid… jerk… jerk…" She grabbed the chair again, pinched her face and began pulling the chair again, one last effort, all her muscles burning. It felt like dragging a boulder along… that or she was just weak as all hell. She didn't care.

The chair was finally where she wanted it, right below the massive, tacky chandelier.

"...your taste is a fucking disaster, Doffy." She snorted, wiping at her glistening nose. She sniffed, stepping up onto the chair. She threw the rope up onto the chandelier… and stood there, with the other end still in her hands. She could almost hear his sneering goddamn voice in her head.

'_...this ain't gonna work that way, Rie...'_

"SHUT UP I KNOW THAT YOU PIECE OF FUCKING SHIT!"

She whirled around too fast, aiming a punch at thin air. Her ankles crossed, her knees buckled and she fell faceforward from the tall chair. She sobbed with the pain of the hit, curling up around the burning ache, moaning as she kneaded the length of rope still in her hands.

'_...it's no use tying a noose if you can't hang it somewhere...'_

"I know that…" She whimpered, nuzzling her mouth against the rope. It rubbed, bruising her, the way his lips always did. Her lipstick all came off, painting the knot pink, exposing the swollen, red bitemarks on her mouth, received but a single day ago. And now, no more…

The joyous screaming from outside echoed in again. She shuddered, swallowing to ease a sudden, bulging sensation of nausea. She uncurled herself, crawled to her feet again, staggered past the chair, towards the door. She fell against the doorframe, clawing at the wood, sobbing again, fresh tears falling like lead from her eyes.

'_I want to see him… one last time… and then I'll let myself be killed… whatever, I don't care, death doesn't scare me… I got nothing to live for...'_

She lifted her forehead away from the doorframe, blinked through the curtain of salt and water and cheap makeup, and numbly pushed herself away to begin walking again. Hunched over, she dragged the piece of rope with herself, stepping out of the room she barely left before. First, she began ascending stairs then climbed the rubble left behind from the battles. She slipped several times, scraping her palms and thighs and chest and stomach raw on the sharp bricks and stone. By the time she reached the plateau, she was washed in blood, dressed in cuts and bruises, decorated with snot and tears.

Sunlight burned her bare eyes, ached into her skull, pulsed in her brain as discomfort. She shielded her gaze with her empty hand and she saw Straw Hat Luffy, saw Trafalgar Law, saw Dressrosa cheering. The Kingdom of Passions was ecstatic with freedom, praising their saviors, cursing their tyrant.

Doflamingo was down, beaten, bleeding, a slab of meat ready for the vultures to feast on.

Her wail came ragged, high and tortured, rising out of the orchestra of bliss as a horrid solo violin, composing the true song of revenge. She threw herself at him, grabbed his foolish, disgusting coat and tugged it, weeping her black tears into the pink feathers. Her voice rose and fell in howling moans, cursing him, begging him, eternally conflicted.

"You bastard, you piece of trash, you know I don't have anything, how dare you, fuck you, fuck you, you said you were king, you said you were above all, so what's this now, what's this?!" She stared at his crushed face, his eyes closed, his mouth red with blood. That could have been one of her lipsticks, but no. It was blood, barely dry. She grabbed his hand, scratched new wounds into the scrapes there with her nails. The noose she's made for herself lay by her side, glaring its own silent curse at those who watched. "What's THIS, Doffy?!"

Straw Hat Luffy's voice was strangely quiet and mature when he spoke. "...who's this, Torao…?"

Before Trafalgar Law could admit he knew nothing of her existence, she raised her head and showed her glistening, blotched, tortured face to the two. Her voice was a rasp, grated on pure despair. "...who do you think, god damn it…" She sniffed, wiping her face on the back of her dirty hand, mouth trembling. "I'm his fucking queen."


End file.
